Mated to My Fiancé’s Alpha King Brother

32 Chapter 32

32 Chapter 32

Damien’s POV 1

The border situation was spiraling out of control. Patrol reports were stacked on the hood of my jeep like poker

cards after a bad hand, each one detailing another rogue attack, another probe at our defenses. Three days of

this shit, and my patience was wearing thinner

than paper.

“How bad?” | asked Marcus as he trudged toward me, blood trickling from a fresh cut on his cheek.

“Could be worse.” He wiped the blood away with the back of his hand, leaving a red smear across his knuckles.

“Three guys got banged up

pretty good, but nothing that won't heal. Problem is, the bastards are getting cockier.”

| grabbed the map, stabbing red pins into each attack location with more force than necessary. The pattern that

emerged made my jaw

clench. These weren't desperate rogues looking for easy prey-this was organized. Calculated.

“They're testing us,” | muttered, connecting the dots with my finger. “Hit and run, hit and run. Never staying long

enough for a real fight.”

Marcus nodded grimly. “Every damn time, it's the sthing. They cin hard, make noise, then vanish the

second we show real

teeth. Like they're learning something.”

“Learning what?”

“How fast we respond. How many wolves we send. Which routes we take.” Marcus's expression darkened.

“Alpha, somebody’s mapping

our defenses. This isn’t random violence-it's reconnaissance.”

The implications hitlike ice water. Organized rogue activity meant someone with serious resources was

planning something big.

Someone who wanted to know exactly how to hurt us when the tcame.

| was about to order additional patrols when a sound drifted through the trees that made every hair on my arms

stand at attention

Crying. A child's crying, high and desperate and absolutely terrifying in this desolate wilderness.

“Did you hear that?” | asked Marcus, my entire body going rigid with alertness.

His eyes widened as the sound cagain-closer now, more distinct. “That's... that’s a child, Alpha. Out here in

rogue territory.”

My mind raced through possibilities. Had the rogues taken a hostage? Was this skind of trap designed to

lure us deeper into the

forest? Or was there actually a child lost in the wilderness, helpless and alone in one of the most dangerous

areas of our territory?

| gestured for Marcus and two other guards to follow me, but raised my hand for caution. “Weapons ready but

not visible,” | commanded.

“If this is an ambush, | want to be prepared. If it's really a child in distress...”

We moved through the dense forest with the silent precision of seasoned hunters, following the sound of sobbing

that seemed to echo from deeper in the trees. The scent trails here were confusing-multiple wolves had passed

through recently, their fear and aggression hanging in the air like a toxic cloud.

But as we drew closer to the source of the crying, another scent reachedthrough the chaos of rogue markers

and territorial

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32 Chapter 32

tensions. Familiar. Impossibly familiar.

Vanilla and jasmine. Sweet and pure and absolutely out of place in this wilderness of danger.

Sera’s scent.

My wolf Alex went completely berserk in my mind, pacing and snarling with recognition and desperate confusion.

*Why would her scent.

be here? Why would any trace of our mate be in this gods-forsaken place?*

| held up my hand, signaling the others to lower their weapons as understanding began to dawn. “Stand down,” |

commanded quietly.

“Whatever this is, it's not an attack.”

We pushed through the final cluster of pine trees and emerged into a small clearing where fallen logs created

natural seating around

what had once been a campfire ring. And there, sitting on the mossy ground with his back pressed against a

massive oak tree, was a

small figure that made my heart stop completely.

Adrian.

Sera’s son was huddled against the tree trunk, his little arms wrapped around his knees as tears streamed down

his dirt-stained cheeks.

His dark curls were disheveled, leaves and twigs caught in the tangles, and his clothes-a bright blue t-shirt and

tiny jeans-were torn

and muddy from wandering through the forest.

But even from twenty feet away, even through the grand fear, those eyes were unmistakable. Deep blue

with silver flecks that caught

the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy above.

| was already moving before my brain had fully processed what | was seeing, crossing the clearing in long strides

that ate up the distance

between us. My heart was hammering against my ribs, confusion and shock warring in my chest.

Adrian looked up at my approach, his small face a canvas of misery. Tears had carved clean tracks through the

dirt on his cheeks, and his

nose was running freely. His lower lip trembled as he tried to stop crying, clearly struggling to be brave despite

being absolutely

terrified.

Leaves and small twigs were tangled in his dark curls, and | could see scratches on his small arms where

branches had caught him. He

looked so incredibly small sitting there against that massive oak tree, like a lost doll someone had carelessly

discarded.

“Are you my daddy?” he asked in a voice so small and hopeful it shattered something inside my chest.

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